


Al Behds Do It Better

by LindorKisses



Series: Gippalaipalooza [3]
Category: Final Fantasy X-2
Genre: Boys In Love, Falling In Love, Fluff, Gippal is a sweetheart, Jealousy, M/M, Machina - Freeform, Male Slash, Monkeys, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Unrequited Love, bevelle, gippalai, grapes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:46:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25208686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LindorKisses/pseuds/LindorKisses
Summary: He knows not every Al Behd is the same, yet he cannot help but wonder if it’s an inherent trait or a unique one.‘Perhaps he is an anomaly,’ Baralai muses as he considers his once clean kitchen that had, somehow, been single-handedly destroyed by one very blond and very annoying Al Behd.“I can explain,” Gippal charmingly smiles as he leans his back against the counter covered in flour.‘Of course he can,’ Baralai sighs, two fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as he settles in for, what would no doubt be, a ridiculous excuse that would justify the wasteland he stood on the threshold of.Or, in which Gippal begins to temporarily live with Baralai in Bevelle to escape a scorned lover, and Baralai is forced to clean up the literal messes Gippal wrecks upon his home, his life, and his heart.
Relationships: Baralai/Gippal
Series: Gippalaipalooza [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1811827





	1. The Kitchen

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own the characters, nor do I claim any ownership of the videogame Final Fantasy X-2. All rights belong to the producers and composers of the game, such as Square Enix and Noriko Matsueda.
> 
> Author's Note: None of the chapters published have been reviewed and edited, so if you see a mistake, please let me know, and I will correct it at a later date. Thank you for understanding!

“Monkeys are fun and loyal, making them ~~good~~ ideal companions. Furthermore, they can be trained to not ~~steal~~ pilfer gil or other…valuables. As a result of these…qualities, the Kinderguardians believe monkeys should…be allowed to reside in Bevelle as pets.”

Although guilt tugs at his heartstrings, Baralai cannot in good conscious accept the proposal.

“I’m sorry, Issaru,” The Praetor apologizes to the empty study room as he places the proposal in the reject pile, “I can tell you helped Pacce with this proposal – you did a good job helping provide more suitable words like “ideal” – but I simply cannot accept this.”

 _“If I do,”_ Baralai takes another document to review, _“Bevelle will become like Zanarkand: overcrowded with monkeys. Everywhere one goes in Bevelle, they’ll see monkeys. Monkeys in stores, selling – or, more likely, stealing – the goods. Monkeys in houses, tearing apart furniture and sleeping in the debris. Monkeys in-”_

A thundering crash reverberates throughout the house and interrupts the Praetor’s thoughts.

Sighing as an ache begins pounding in his temples, Baralai sets the document back on top of the wooden desk. He doesn’t need to know where the sound originated from, nor does he need to investigate to know who the culprit is. After all, he had seen a certain blonde man heading for the kitchen while he had worked on reviewing the proposals.

 _“Monkeys in kitchens destroying holy ground,”_ Baralai finishes his interrupted thought as he intently gazes at the cherry wood door, waiting for another noise. _“This, Pacce, is why I don’t want monkeys as pets. I all ready have one, and he’s a handful.”_

When no other sound reaches the Praetor’s ears, he wearily eyes the door before returning his attention to the document, but before he can pick up the stapled papers, another wave of strident noises boom throughout the house, spurring Baralai into action.

Rubbing his temples with a groan, the Praetor stands up, pulls the door open, and heads down the hallway.

 _“Monkeys can be taught?”_ Baralai snorts as he walks toward his beloved kitchen. _“That man has been living with me for two months now, and he still hasn’t learned to not destroy my belongings. No matter how many times I’ve punished him, he just keeps getting into mischief. No matter how many rules I’ve established, he just goes around them. Can’t sit on the couch (which he tore apart to use for some machina contraption)? He sits on the table (and manages to destroy that, too).”_

Shaking his head, Baralai exhales deeply as he reaches the kitchen threshold only to abruptly halt at the devastation awaiting him inside.

Flour drips from every polished surface as egg yolk slides down the – recently painted, Baralai bemoans – moonlight walls and pools on the wooden floor only to be blocked at certain angles by parts of fragmented pots and pans. The rest of the cookware’s bodies hang in the air from their attached places along a wooden line (which seems familiar-dear Yevon tell him that’s _not_ what he thinks it is) that runs from the refrigerator and cabinets to the stove.

After inspecting every sullied inch, brown eyes finally land on the culprit as Baralai studies the sheepish man covered in yolk and flour before sighing.

He knows not every Al Behd is the same – after all, who else could do so much damage to a kitchen? - yet he cannot help but wonder if it’s an inherent trait or a unique one.

 _‘Perhaps he is an anomaly,’_ Baralai idly muses before returning his attention to his once clean kitchen that had, somehow, been single-handedly destroyed by one very blond and very annoying Al Behd.

“I can explain,” Brown eyes flick towards Gippal as he charmingly smiles while leaning his back against the counter covered in white powder.

 _‘Of course he can,’_ Baralai sighs again, two fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as he settles in for, what would no doubt be, a ridiculous excuse that would justify the wasteland he stands before.

“So, you see,” The Al Behd begins with a sparkling eye, “I was trying to create one of those cool inventions that, apparently, do small tasks to complete a larger task.”

Exhaling deeply, brown eyes flutter close as the Praetor restrains the irritation clawing to get out before Baralai opens his eyes and drily offers the word, “A Rube Goldberg machine?”

“A Rube Gold what?” Gippal tilts his head with a frown, an act that only serves to make the Praetor hiss quietly as his patience is further tested.

“A. Rube. Goldberg. Machine,” Enunciating each part of the word, Baralai – somehow miraculously – waits for the Al Behd to grasp the term.

“Yeah, yeah! That thing,” Blonde locks jump up and down as Gippal nods his head. “I was trying to make one of those things.”

Pink lips thin as Baralai waits for the Al Behd continue, but when the blonde just stares at him with a smile, the Praetor pinches his nose before growling, “And _why_ did you try to make a Rube Goldberg machine, Gippal?”

“Oh, right,” The Al Behd sheepishly smiles as he scratches his head and averts his eye, “I, er, I was trying to make breakfast for us.”

Baralai sharply inhales before clenching his jaw and seething, “And you couldn’t do that with your own _hands_?”

“But the machine would make it easier!” Gippal protests as he waves his arms around the kitchen (can it be called a kitchen when it looked more like a chocobo ranch?).

The low ache that had begun earlier blossoms into a full-grown headache as brown eyes clench shut, _“Why exactly do I love this man?”_

Baralai doesn’t bother to answer that question – one he had asked constantly during these two months - as he rubs his temples, repressing the urge to murder the Al Behd, before looking at his companion, who at least has the intelligence to look ashamed.

“I’m really sorry for the mess, ‘Lai,” Gippal earnestly apologizes as he slowly approaches Baralai. “I’ll clean it all up. I promise.”

Brown eyes scrutinize the sincerity gleaming from Gippal’s eye, but the Praetor doesn’t cave in until Gippal wraps his arms around his middle.

“Forgive me, please?” The Al Behd dons his notorious puppy look, and, even though Baralai is furious with the other man, his insides melt at the expression.

Huffing at his soft interior, the Praetor grumbles as he gently extracts himself from Gippal’s arms, “Okay, okay. Let’s just get this cleaned up, and then we’ll have breakfast, which we will make _ourselves_. Does that sound good?”

Happiness covers the blue sky in Gippal’s eye as the Al Behd squeezes the Praetor – his umber cheeks filling with blood at the physical affection – before releasing him with a wide smile, “Sounds perfect.”

Averting his eyes from that sunny smile, Baralai clears his throat as his heart begins racing in his chest – he’s not talking about _you_ , the Praetor hisses to himself - before turning to survey the kitchen, “Go get the broom and mop from the hallway closet. We’ll clean the flour and yolk up first, and then we’ll throw away the broken cookware.”

However, Gippal does not rush to get the items as Baralai expects. Instead, the Al Behd remains planted in the kitchen. Turning towards the Al Behd, brown eyes observe the guilt etched on the tan face before Baralai recalls the wooden line.

“Gippal,” The Al Behd shrinks into himself at the steel in Baralai’s voice, “don’t tell me that damn line is made of what I think it is.”

“I’m sorry?” Nervous laughter accompanies the words as a blue eye flicks around the room, avidly avoiding the irate Praetor.

“Did you use my _broom_ , Gippal, for your… _wonderful_ invention?” The Praetor seethes as he stalks towards the Al Behd, who stumbles backwards.

“Now, now, ‘Lai,” Holding his hands in front of his body like shields, Gippal quickly tries to soothe the silver haired man, “before you do something you’ll regret-”

“I’m going to murder you, Gippal!” Baralai growls as he lunges at the Al Behd, only to meet thin air when Gippal ducks to the side and rushes to the center of the kitchen.

“Don’t hurt me, ‘Lai,” The blonde man whines beseechingly as he avoids another lunge. “I-I promise I’ll get you a new broom, so please don’t-”

A scream interrupts Gippal’s sentence as Baralai finally tackles the Al Behd, who falls to the floor with a groan.

“Mercy, ‘Lai,” Gippal moans from beneath Baralai, but the Praetor isn’t exactly feeling merciful.

“If you wanted mercy,” Baralai purrs as he cages the Al Behd’s head between his arms, “then you shouldn’t have destroyed my kitchen _and_ broom.”

“I’ll fix everything, promise,” Gippal pouts as he raises his pinky finger, “so please don’t punish me, ‘Lai.”

Shaking his head, umber hands gently smack the pinky finger down as Baralai settles himself comfortably on Gippal’s stomach, “If you didn’t want to be punished, then you should have been more careful, now shouldn’t you have?”

The Al Behd whines from beneath him, but Baralai remains perched on top of the lean body as he inspects his kitchen, “We’ll just make do with the mop since _somebody_ decided to break my broom.”

The Praetor leans down with a feral smile as he pushes his fingers into the toned abdomen, “I wonder who did such a thing?”

“‘Lai, I’m sorry,” Gippal wiggles before sagging back into the floor with a pout. “I’m sorry, ‘Lai, really.”

“I’m sure you are,” Baralai snorts as he leans up and retracts his fingers from the (delicious) abdominal muscles. “We’ll first pick up the broken cookware, but we’ll be careful. I don’t want either of us getting cut.”

“Sounds like a fantastic plan, ‘Lai,” Gippal eagerly nods his head in agreement. “You’re so amazing, ‘Lai. How do you do it?”

Blushing at the compliment, Baralai doesn’t let his pleasure distract him as he crosses his arms over his chest and glares at the Al Behd, “Flattery will get you no where, Gippal.”

The Al Behd huffs and closes his mouth before a spark enters his eye, “But reasoning will.”

Arching an eyebrow, Baralai leans back and gazes at Gippal with amused eyes, “Is that so? Let’s hear it, then. If it’s good, I’ll let you go.”

“I can’t get the mop and help clean up if I’m stuck here,” Triumph gleams from a blue sky, and, while Baralai would like to deny it, the Al Behd does have a point.

Not that he has to acknowledge it, though.

Brown eyes study the Al Behd before Baralai chuckles when the triumph fades into uncertainty, “I suppose you have a point.”  
“I do?” Gippal perks up as hope crawls over his features.

“You do,” The Praetor affirms.

“So, then, you’ll let me go?” The Al Behd wiggles his body to emphasize his point, but the Praetor gives him a smirk, one that immediately destroys the hope shining from the tan face.

Baralai leans forward and softly whispers with mirthful eyes, “I never promised I would, now did I?”

Horror coats Gippal’s face as the words sink in before the Al Behd sobs, gripping the Praetor’s garments and shaking the silver haired man, “‘Lai, please! I’ll do whatever you want, so please stop punishing me!”

“Whatever I want?” Pleasure flows from Baralai’s voice as his wicked smirk widens.

“Whatever you want, just please – please – forgive me all ready!” A beseeching blue eye meets the Praetor’s amused gaze. “Please!”

“You’ll listen to everything I say?” Baralai hums as he begins leaning back.

“Yes!” The Al Behd’s head rapidly bobs up and down as he continues clenching the Praetor’s clothes.

“You’ll do exactly as I tell you?” Baralai pushes as he pins Gippal with a gaze.

“For fuck’s sake, yes, ‘Lai!” The blonde man groans before flopping back onto the floor when Baralai continues.

“And you’ll never defile my kitchen again?” It’s the cherry on top of a sweet cake, but, for Baralai, it’s the most important part.

“I swear I won’t even step a foot in here without you!” Gippal lifts his head and meets the Praetor’s dubious gaze.

Baralai holds Gippal’s eyes for a moment before smiling in satisfaction, “Good. Keep your words, Gippal, or expect another – and more severe – punishment.”

The Al Behd doesn’t say a word as he quickly nods his head before sighing in relief as Baralai lifts himself off Gippal’s body.

“Cruel, sadistic Praetor,” Gippal grumbles as he finally stands up only to yelp when umber hands grab his earlobe.

“I’m sorry, Gippal, I didn’t quite hear you,” Baralai coos as he yanks the blonde man closer. “Would you like to repeat what you said just now?”

“Y-Y-You know, I think I just remembered I was supposed to get the mop,” Wiggling out of his hold, the Al Behd shoots out the kitchen like a chocobo fleeing a battle.

“That’s what I thought,” Pleasure drips from Baralai’s words as he takes out a garbage bag and begins collecting the broken pieces to throw away.

As the floor gradually becomes cleaner, though still covered in yolk and flour, the Praetor falls into his thoughts, _“Two months of things like this and you would think I would have fallen out of love with that man, but instead, I think I’ve fallen even more in love with him.”_

 _“I thought distance was supposed to make the heart grow fonder,”_ Huffing, the Praetor picks up the last broke piece before tying the bag, _“and, while I certainly did miss Gippal after Vegnagun’s destruction, I didn’t feel any different when we parted. I still thought about him. I still longed for him. I still **loved** him._”

 _“Now, though, it feels like I’ve fallen even deeper,”_ Brown eyes disappear from the world as Baralai leans against the garbage bag. _“Living with him for two months has allowed me to learn about him all over again: his peeves, his quirks, his habits, everything; and, the more I learned, the more I loved, even when he irritates me.”_

An image of his destroyed kitchen floats before him like a Fly Eye, and Baralai waves the image away with a chuckle before sobering, _“While I only have myself to blame for falling for him, I still wouldn’t have wanted a situation like this, even if I had wanted the opportunity to spend time with him. After all, the only reason Gippal came to Bevelle was to escape one of his former female lovers, who apparently had not taken their breakup well. He came for **refuge** from relationships; he didn’t come to be fallen in love with.”_

 _“Not that he would ever consider a relationship with me anyway, seeking refuge or not,”_ Baralai shakes his head with a rueful smile. _“I’ve only ever seen him take female lovers, and I’ve never heard of him dating anyone but women. If I made my feelings known now not only would they be a burden, but they would also complicate things. I mean, could **I** be friends with someone, who had romantic feelings for me, when I didn’t – when I **couldn’t** \- return their feelings?”_

Although Baralai doesn’t get a chance to answer that question when Gippal enters the kitchen, he knows the answer without saying it.

He couldn’t.

“You cleaned up quick, ‘Lai,” The Al Behd whistles as he surveys the kitchen while setting the mop and bucket on the ground. “It looks a lot better.”

“It’ll look even better when we’ve cleaned up the flour,” Disentangling himself from his morose thoughts, the Praetor opens a cabinet and pulls out a bottle of household cleaner before grabbing the bucket and filling it with water. “I’ll mop, and you can throw out the trash.”

“Yes, sir,” Gippal mock salutes, grinning when Baralai rolls his eyes, before grabbing the garbage bag and heading out the house.

Brown eyes follow the retreating figure before moving back to the bucket in the sink, and, once its full, the Praetor sets it on the ground and wets the mop in the soapy water before wiping the food ingredients away.

 _“It’s better this way,”_ Baralai continues his previous line of thought as he mops the kitchen floor. _“Gippal can continue being at ease with me, his good **friend** , and I can have him in my life, even if it’s not exactly the way I want; but, at the very least, he’s by my side.”_

And having Gippal by his side is better than not having him at all.


	2. The Grape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, nor do I claim any ownership of the videogame Final Fantasy X-2. All rights belong to the producers and composers of the game, such as Square Enix and Noriko Matsueda.

“Sorry for the kitchen.”

Brown eyes read the simple sentence several times before flicking towards the silver machina sitting in the middle of his desk.

Setting the sticky note down, Baralai sits in his chair and moves closer to inspect the contraption. No bigger than a cardboard jewelry box, the machina is as tall as the mug seated to Baralai’s right. Although its’ height is lacking, it does have a peculiar feature: it’s arms. While also down-sized, the arms are long – and, with a chuckle, Baralai realizes they’re made of the handles from the broken pans – and attached to their ends are the round flat surfaces of the pans.

 _“Seems Gippal didn’t throw that trash away after all,”_ Fondly shaking his head, Baralai continues inspecting the machina. “ _To be fair, I should have known not to ask him to throw the trash away, but it’s quite incredible how he was able to find use for something others would label trash.”_

Brown eyes rove over the machina, taking in every minute detail, before the Praetor lifts a finger and gently touches the machina’s cold hands. When nothing happens, Baralai glides his finger across the polished surface.

 _“What does it do, though?”_ The Praetor muses as he continues touching the hand. _“Gippal needs to learn to be clearer about the functions of his inventions. They can’t be used if people don’t know what they’re for.”_

A startled yelp cuts through the air like a sword as Baralai rests his palm against the cool surface only for his poor appendage to suddenly be squished between the buzzing hands.

 _“What is it doing?”_ Confusion colors the Praetor’s thoughts as he studies the machina, whose eyes have lit up as its hands begin slowly moving in circles.

Brown eyes widen when the silver haired male realizes the machina’s function, _“It messages hands. Gippal built a hand massager. He built a hand massager…for **me**.”_

His heart swelling and thumping painfully in his chest at the sweet gesture, Baralai doesn’t stop the smile from pulling his lips up, though he does repress the incessant urge to swoon, _“That…That stupid man. Doesn’t he realize just how easy he makes it to love him?”_

Huffing, the Praetor shakes his head before returning his attention to the machina, whose hands have moved from the base of his palm to the beginnings of his fingers.

 _“It was really sweet of him to do this, though,”_ Baralai acknowledges, but only to himself, as he props his cheek against his free palm to gaze ( _not_ adoringly, he would like to insist) at the contraption. _“I suppose the kitchen incident can be forgiven now. It has been cleaned, but we still need to replace the cookware and broom, and Gippal even went out of his way to express his remorse.”_

As he studies the machina, Baralai exhales deeply before finally caving in and melting with his heart, _“Dear Yevon, Gippal, don’t you know I all ready love you? How much more of my love could you possibly want?”_

Shaking his head to rid himself of the lovesick thoughts, Baralai resumes his study of the machina and notices a button on the left of the invention surrounded by a glowing blue outline, _“What’s this? I didn’t see that before.”_

Removing his cheek from his palm and sitting up, the Praetor presses the button, and the messaging hands immediately cease their administration and release the umber hand.

 _“An off button,”_ Humming, Baralai sets his freed hand on the desk. _“Is it a start button, too?”_

However, when an umber finger pushes the button in, the machina remains still.

 _“So, the pans must have a touch sensor,”_ The Praetor begins to dissect the machina’s makeup, _“which activates it, and you push the button to turn it off. That’s…That’s pretty genius, Gippal.”_

Not that Baralai is going to say that, though. Gippal all ready has a big enough head; no need to give him a reason to inflate his ego.

 _“Though, I think I’m more afraid I might do something foolish,”_ Resting his chin against his arms, brown eyes stare into the machina’s lifeless depths, _“like kiss him.”_

 _“Damn him for being so lovable,”_ Although Baralai grumbles about the Al Behd, the smile remains on his lips and doesn’t fade for the rest of the day.

* * *

The days melt into a week as Baralai and Gippal settle into a routine, one that – fortunately – does not include destroying a room.

A chuckle fills the empty air of the study room as Baralai recalls the kitchen incident before forcing his attention to return to the document in his hands.

 _“It’s been busy this week,”_ The observation flies to the surface of Baralai’s mind as he scans the proposal before setting aside for further consideration. _“I’ve been keeping up with the proposals, but it seems every day there’s another stack of documents to review.”_

 _“I barely have time for a break, let alone to eat or sleep,”_ Brown eyes wearily gaze at the mountain of documents to be studied. _“Fortunately, Gippal’s independent, and he seems content with just having breakfast and dinner with me while spending the rest of the time by himself.”_

 _“Still, even if I have to sacrifice lunch and a few hours of sleep, it is my responsibility as the Praetor to review these documents,”_ Nodding his head, Baralai sits straighter in his chair as he grabs another document, even though his stomach cries out in hunger, _“And, I need to prove that I am worthy of being the Praetor. I need to prove that I am capable of leading New Yevon through these changing times.”_

 _“Most importantly, I need to prove **myself** ,” _The Praetor grimaces as he recalls his mistakes. _“How can I possibly expect to gain my people’s trust after what I’ve done? I let my hatred – righteous or not – consume me until I was susceptible to Shuyin’s possession. Even if it wasn’t me, even if Spira was saved thanks to the Gullwings, I am still responsible for that mess. I am still responsible for the damage, the destruction, I caused and could have caused Spira.”_

 _“The only way to even begin to atone for my crimes,”_ Umber fingers set the document down as brown eyes stare at the surface of the desk without seeing the wooden furniture, _“is to not only accept my responsibilities but execute them as well.”_

Absent-mindedly nodding in agreement with his thoughts, the Praetor continues to stare through the desk as he falls deeper in his morose thoughts before snapping out of his trance when the door opens.

“I knew you’d be here,” Gippal scoffs as he shakes his head before sauntering in. “Honestly, ‘Lai, do you know what time it is?”

A small smile graces Baralai’s lips as the Praetor stands and moves to the front of the desk, leaning on the furniture as he responds to the Al Behd, “What time is it, Gippal?”

“Lunch, ‘Lai,” Gippal gestures to the bowl in his hand, “you know, food?”

“Why, thank you, Gippal, for explaining what lunch is,” Sarcasm drips from every word as Baralai rolls his eyes, “because I certainly had no idea.”

“Well, the way you work through it, you might as well not know about it,” A cheeky smile curls along the Al Behd’s pink lips, though his blue eye is a cloudy sky. “Seriously, ‘Lai, I know you’re a workaholic, but you _are_ human. You need a break.”

Trying to stop his heart from melting at the concern to no avail, the Praetor quickly averts his gaze to the balcony as he clears his throat and steadies his shaky breathing, “While I do appreciate your concern, Gippal, it’s nothing to be worried about. Missing lunch is no big deal, and it’s not affecting my productivit-”

Before Baralai can conclude his sentence, a rumble reverberates through the air, and a blue eye snaps down to Baralai’s stomach.

“Not affecting your productivity, huh?” Blood rushes to umber cheeks as the Al Behd glances at his face with an arched eyebrow. “Sure, maybe it’s not affecting your productivity, but it’s clearly affecting _you_.”

Crossing his arms over his stomach, more to silence the whining than to hide his evident hunger, the Praetor opens his mouth to argue – he is very much fine, thank you – but he isn’t able to get a word out as Gippal shoves the bowl closer, “No protesting. I figured you’d work yourself to starvation, so I came prepared.”

Brown eyes drop to the bowl and study the small, round, purple food items in the porcelain container, “Grapes?”

“They’re pretty good,” The Al Behd hums as he pops one in his mouth before smirking when Baralai wrinkles his nose at the open mouth chewing.

“Close your mouth, Gippal,” The Praetor grumbles as the blonde-haired male chuckles before following his order and closing his mouth.

Once the Al Behd has swallowed the grape (and no, Baralai’s eyes did not flick towards his Adam’s apple when he swallowed nor did they linger on the tan skin), he explains his choice, “I knew you’d worry about the food getting cold, so I decided to choose something simple. Grapes are pretty fulfilling, especially if you have a handful of them, and they won’t get cold.”

“But, it’s going to be a waste because I’ll get involved with my work and forget the grapes are even there,” Baralai argues as he forces his eyes from Gippal’s neck to the blue eye.

“I told you, ‘Lai, that I came prepared,” Mirth gleams from Gippal’s eye as he picks up another grape. “I knew you’d just go right back to work when I left, so I came up with an idea: you can’t forget your food if I’m here eating with you.”

“Gippal, I-” Before the Praetor can reject the plan – he has many documents to review and not enough time in a day to complete them all – the Al Behd slides the grape into Baralai’s open mouth.

Brown eyes pop out of their sockets while flames kiss umber cheeks as the callus finger brushes against the Praetor’s soft lips, and all Baralai is physically capable of doing is gazing at Gippal.

“See?” The Al Behd smiles triumphantly as he retracts his finger and picks up another grape. “Not so bad, is it?”

His heart booming in his chest like the Thunder Plains, Baralai unconsciously chews the grape as his eyes remain entranced by the twinkling blue gaze.

“Open up,” Gippal hums as he presses another grape to Baralai’s lips, but they remain frozen shut. “You can’t eat if you keep your mouth close, ‘Lai.”

Swallowing the lump forming in his throat, the Praetor inhales a trembling breath before whispering, “G-Gippal, I can feed myse-” 

The purple fruit slips into Baralai’s open mouth as the Al Behd murmurs, “Sure, but, I think the question isn’t can you feed yourself, but will you?”

An eyebrow arches up into a blonde hairline as Gippal pointedly stares at Baralai, who averts his eyes as flames combust along his cheeks. Swallowing the second grape, the Praetor musters the courage to face the Al Behd before whipping his head towards the other man.

“Gippal, I can-” Any strength Baralai had is quickly lowered when Gippal slides another grape into his mouth, his fingers brushing against the Praetor’s tingling lips.

“Yes, I know, you can feed yourself,” The Al Behd acknowledges as he pops a grape into his own mouth, “but you don’t, so I have to resort to drastic measures to ensure you eat.”

The Praetor opens his mouth, but not a word enters the world as Gippal places another grape in Baralai’s mouth, forcing the Praetor to chew first before he can speak. However, each time Baralai opens his mouth to stop the Al Behd, a grape enters his mouth, and he’s forced to chew before opening his mouth, only to have another fruit placed in his mouth.

 _“I just hope I don’t have a heart attack,”_ Snorting at his thumping heart locked inside his constricted chest, Baralai forces himself to focus on everything but the finger brushing against his lips, _“and I hope I don’t faint, either, because I couldn’t get enough air.”_

Inhaling deeply and expanding his whimpering lungs, the Praetor opens his mouth for another grape as he slips into his thoughts, _“Don’t do anything. He’s a friend, Baralai. He’s not your partner. He’s a **friend**.”_

Distracted by his reminders, Baralai unconsciously licks his lips when a particularly wet grape is pressed against his mouth only to freeze when his tongue touches a callused pad. Brown eyes snap towards Gippal, whose darkened blue eye is hooded.

_“Apologize,”_ The order is firm, but Baralai can’t open his mouth as he gazes into a stormy sky. _“Yevon, Baralai, apologize!”_

However, his mouth remains stitched shut as the tan finger gently brushes against the Praetor’s lips, even though Gippal isn’t offering a grape.

The caress is soft yet insistent as it moves from the corner to the fullest part of Baralai’s lips, and the Praetor stops breathing as the Al Behd’s heated gaze drops to his mouth, the tan finger rooted on the middle of Baralai’s lips.

 _“Wh-What is he doing?”_ The question whirls around Baralai’s head as the Praetor watches the intense Al Behd. _“I…I need to stop this.”_

Although his body and heart resists, Baralai swallows and forces his mouth to open, but he only manages to coherently speak one breathless word, “G-Gippal.”

The name is enough to snap the blonde man out of his trance, and his finger falls from Baralai’s mouth before he speaks.

“You…You can keep the grapes,” The Al Behd’s sonorous voice is gruff as he steps away from Baralai and places the bowl on the desk.

Stomping down the urge to touch Gippal, the Praetor jerks his head up and down, and he reminds his body to _breathe_ when a heated blue eye flicks towards him. However, just as quick as the gaze had come, it leaves when Gippal turns on his heels and walks out the study room, leaving Baralai alone with the emotions welling up inside him.

Returning to his chair, the dazed Praetor limply falls onto the cushion as he stares at the empty study room before slowly lifting his fingers to touch his sensitive lips.

A vivid memory of Gippal’s finger pressed against those very same lips flashes before Baralai’s eyes, and a shiver slithers down the Praetor’s body before his eyes fall on the bowl of grapes sitting innocuously in the corner of his desk.

Since when did grapes become aphrodisiacs?


	3. The Potential Bride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, nor do I claim any ownership of the videogame Final Fantasy X-2. All rights belong to the producers and composers of the game, such as Square Enix and Noriko Matsueda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As stated in the story details, "Al Behds Do It Better" or ABDIT has six chapters. However, I will be resuming my education in August, and I would like to rest until then. As a result, ABDIT will go on a temporary hiatus, but it will hopefully be completed in the summer of 2021. Similar to the other stories part of the Gippalaipalooza, there is no guarantee that I will updated ABDIT in the summer of 2021 (it may be updated earlier or later), but I would like to complete the story and will do my best to do so. Thank you for your patience and support!

“‘Lai,” A certain Al Behd whines for the hundredth time from his place on the sofa.

Deeply exhaling, the Praetor finally gives in and sets the document down before lacing his hands and turning towards the blonde man, “Yes, Gippal?”

Like a puppy, Gippal’s head pops up at the attention before he jumps up and rushes to the desk, his imaginary tail wagging, “Finally! You’ve been ignoring me for half an hour, ‘Lai. You’re so cruel.”

The Al Behd pouts, making Baralai roll his eyes, “My sincerest apologies, Gippal.”

“You’re not sorry one bit,” Gippal grumbles before quickly moving the conversation forward when Baralai begins reaching for another proposal, “Wait! Wait a moment, please?”

Brown eyes meet a pleading blue eye, and, though Baralai remains composed, his heart warms and turns into a puddle at the sight.

Still, he can’t let Gippal see he’s won, “You have thirty seconds.”

“Thirty seconds! ‘Lai, that’s not enough time,” Huffing, the blonde man crosses his arms over his chest, but when Baralai begins counting, Gippal quickly changes his pose. “Okay, okay! I wanted to let you know that we need to go to the market today.”

The Praetor pauses his counting, “Why?”

“We, er,” Gippal averts his eye as he scratches his head, “may need…you know, f-flour and-and eggs…for dinner.”

“Ah, that’s right,” A sickly sweet smile colors Baralai’s lips – one that Gippal flinches at upon seeing – as he recalls the incident eight days ago, “someone decided to try to make an invention and chose to use my _kitchen_ , my _food ingredients_ , and my _broom_ for it.”

Gippal wisely keeps his gaze averted as he speaks, “Well, I’m certain that person had their reasons.”

When the Praetor arches an eyebrow, the Al Behd quickly corrects himself, “Though it doesn’t make it right! Shame on that person.”

Snorting, Baralai studies Gippal and represses the genuine smile tugging at his lips, _“I wonder if you even know what shame is, Gippal?”_

The Praetor shakes his head to remove the question before murmuring, “Still, I suppose you are right. We do need flour and eggs for dinner tonight, and we also need a broom. The kitchen and dining room especially need to be swept.”

“So,” Hope gleams from a cloudless blue eye as Gippal faces him, “does that mean we’ll go the market?”

The smile breaks across Baralai’s lips despite his attempts to repress it, “Yes, Gippal, we’ll go to the market.”

“ _And_ get lunch?” The Al Behd adds as his eye flicks toward a plate by Baralai’s arm. “Seeing how you didn’t finish your croissants from breakfast.”

Heat flares along umber cheeks as the Praetor throws the evidence of his distraction away, “I was busy this morning.”

“When aren’t you, ‘Lai?” Gippal challenges as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Being busy doesn’t mean you should neglect yourself.”

“I don’t neglect myse-” A rumble interrupts Baralai’s sentence, and, this time, the Praetor averts his eyes as steel enters a blue sky.

“We’re going to have lunch when we get to the marketplace,” Gippal declares before pointedly staring at Baralai’s stomach, “because someone has decided to starve himself.”

“I’m not starving myse-” The Praetor’s sentence fades when a blue flame pierces his face, and he wisely quiets his protests. “Okay.”

The glare lessens as satisfaction coats Gippal’s face, “Good. Let’s get going, then. We’ll get something to eat first, and then we can get the other things.”

Baralai nods his head in agreement before rising, pushing in his chair, and walking out into the hallway with Gippal at his heels.

“Is there anything particular you want for lunch?” The Praetor inquires as they walk down the hallway.

“Nothing particular,” The Al Behd murmurs as he tilts his head and ponders the question. “Maybe something you haven’t had before?”

“You want to try something new?” The question flippantly flies out of Baralai’s mouth as he begins considering the restaurants he hasn’t eaten in before.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Gippal eagerly nods his head as he shoots his companion a sunny smile. “Let’s expand our horizons and try something we haven’t tried before.”

Blood fills umber cheeks as Baralai quickly averts his eyes from the lovely sight before inhaling – more to calm his heart than out of any necessity for air – and resuming his considerations.

 _“A restaurant I haven’t eaten in before,”_ The Praetor hums as he scans his mental list. _“There’s quite a few I haven’t tried before, but we probably want something relatively close to the marketplace, and we don’t want anything gratuitously expensive.”_

Baralai sinks deeper and deeper into his considerations, but before he can reach the depths and find the answer, he is yanked out by the Al Behd’s voice, “You need a wife, ‘Lai.”

Shock slams into Baralai’s body like a punch from an ogre as the Praetor trips over thin air before arms wrap around his middle and save him from planting face first into the wooden floor.

“You okay, ‘Lai?” Concern radiates from a blue eye as Gippal rights Baralai, “You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?”

Heat nipping his cheeks, Baralai adamantly shakes his head as he forces his lungs to consume air before stepping away from the Al Behd, his heart pounding in his chest at the close proximity, “I-I’m fine.”

“You sure?” Gippal’s eye darts toward the Praetor’s ankles before returning to a pair of brown eyes. “You didn’t twist your ankles or anything?”

 _“Why do you have to care so much, Gippal?_ ” Baralai grimaces at the whiny voice before shaking his head and reprimanding himself. _“No, I’m the one who shouldn’t be misinterpreting things. Gippal is naturally going to be concerned about me because I’m his **friend**. I’m the one who wants his concern to mean something more.”_  
Forcing his attention to return to the Al Behd, Baralai gives his companion a small smile, “I’m fine, really. I was just…surprised by your statement.”

“Do you not like the idea?” Concern finally disappears from the blue sky as Gippal lowers his hovering arms.

“It’s not that I don’t like it, per se,” The Praetor bites his tongue to repress the words clawing to get out – “I don’t like it because I don’t want anyone but you” – before continuing, “but rather I’m very busy. You’ve seen it yourself, Gippal. I don’t have much time to devote to a relationship, let alone a marriage.”

“But would you like a wife?” Gippal pushes as he steps closer and scrutinizes the Praetor.

His heart skipping at the scrutiny, Baralai steps back to maintain space between their bodies before raising his eyes to meet Gippal’s gaze, “Where are these questions coming from, Gippal?”

“I’m just curious,” Although the Al Behd shrugs nonchalantly, the intensity radiating from the blue sky doesn’t disappear.

“Are…” Baralai’s question meets an untimely demise as the Praetor’s mouth abruptly dries before he forces himself to resume while shoving the dread welling inside him down, “Are _you_ interested in getting married?”

“It’s not about me, ‘Lai,” Irritation drips from the words as a frown burrows between Gippal’s eyebrows. “I’m asking _you_ if you’re interested in getting married.”

Brown eyes wearily study the rare irate expression before Baralai sighs and answers Gippal’s question, “I guess? I can’t be certain, Gippal, when I haven’t considered the idea before. Still, I’m not _opposed_ to the idea of getting married.”

“I notice you didn’t say, “I’m not opposed to the idea of having a wife,”” Cocking his head to the side, Gippal analyzes Baralai’s words before coming to a conclusion. “Does that mean you don’t want a wife?”

Before Baralai can respond, the Al Behd shakes his head and corrects his sentence, “Or, perhaps I should ask, does gender not matter for you?”

Crimson blood fills Baralai’s cheeks while the Praetor gapes at Gippal, unable to form a coherent word as shock wreaks havoc on his system.

 _“Wh-Why is he asking me that?”_ The question flaps around Baralai’s head like a peregrine before it oversouls, igniting a fire of dread in the pit of the Praetor’s stomach. _“Yevon, please tell me he hasn’t realized I’m in love with him.”_

Before the fire can consume Baralai, Gippal douses the flames as he steps back, “I think I’m the same. Gender doesn’t really matter to me, either. I think…”

Brown eyes soften as they survey the struggling Al Behd, who swallows thickly before quietly confessing, “I think I just want someone who loves _me_ , you know? Not Gippal, leader of the Machina Faction; not Gippal, the sensual lover; just…just me. Just Gippal the man.”

Baralai sharply inhales as he bites the soft inside of his cheek to repress the words dying to spill out of his lips – “That someone is right in front of you;” “Even when you irritate me, even when you make me furious, the feelings I have for you never go away;” “I love every piece of you from the way you destroy my kitchen to the way you take care of me” – and, once he is certain he has control over his mouth, he briefly touches Gippal’s arm, waiting for the blue eye to rise from the floor it had lowered to.

“I know that you’ll find that someone, Gippal,” The Praetor reassures as he squeezes the Al Behd’s arm. “Who you really are is more lovable than what you may realize.”

Gippal gazes into Baralai’s eyes, but just as he opens his mouth to respond, a rumble fills the air, and both look at the Praetor’s stomach.

 _“Now? Really?”_ Growling, Baralai retracts his hand before crossing his arms over his stomach, pushing into the skin to silence the cries.

However, the embarrassment fades when a chuckle fills the air, and brown eyes meet a sparkling blue eye as Gippal suggests, “Let’s get some lunch.”

Eagerly nodding his silver head, Baralai and Gippal leave the moment – and the emotions it had evoked – behind as they fall into step before exiting the house and walking towards the restaurant the Praetor has chosen. Although the restaurant met Baralai’s standards, he didn’t enjoy most of the dishes they tried, though he did agree with Gippal that they had excellent deserts.

Once lunch had been consumed – and Baralai’s stomach satisfied – the pair enter the bustling marketplace and head towards a stall selling brooms and other various items.

“We’ll get the flour and eggs afterwards,” Baralai explains as he picks up a broom and inspects the object, testing its sturdiness, while Gippal studies the rest of the wares. “We don’t know how long finding a good broom will take, so its best to not let the eggs spoil.”

His companion gives him a noncommittal noise as the Al Behd picks up a small machina and somberly surveys the design, oblivious to the smile crawling along the Praetor’s lips as he watches Gippal.

 _“He’s so serious,”_ A chuckle bubbles out of Baralai’s mouth before he shakes his head and forces his attention to return to the broom in his hands. _“This isn’t bad. It doesn’t seem to come with a dust pan, which is good. I still have the one from the previous broom, so I don’t need a dust pan. It seems sturdy, too.”_

Scanning the broom one last time, the Praetor nods his head before moving towards the seller before abruptly pausing as his gaze falls on top of a large machina in the corner of the stall. Larger than his hand massager, the blue and silver invention is shaped like a box whose corners have been crushed inwards. It has four scrawny legs and two thick outstretched arms; and, a third arm - this one slimmer than its siblings - juts out from between the two thick arms with a round ball attached to its end. The final detail Baralai notices is the flat black screen laying on top of the machina’s body.

“Are you interested in this, Praetor Baralai?” The vendor inquires as he appears at Baralai’s side.

Brown eyes snap towards the man as he straightens, “It does look interesting, but I’m not quite certain what it is.”

“The cataloguer 360,” The vendor gestures towards the machina as he describes its functions, “is the newest line of machines that the Machine Faction have released.”

“This arm here,” The vendor gently taps the third arm, “has a scanner attached to its end.”

“So, that’s what that ball is,” Baralai hums as he attentively listens to the man’s explanation, barely noticing Gippal when he creeps up behind the Praetor.

“Exactly,” The vendor straightens as he continues describing the machina. “This machina here is ideal for libraries. The scanner will create a ray – which is not harmful to either humans or animals, though I would recommend not letting it hit your eyes directly – and that ray will scan books on a bookshelf. Then, it will transmit that information to the screen on top-”

“Where the information will be stored,” The Al Behd finishes before groaning when Baralai, startled by his sudden appearance, jumps and slams his elbow into Gippal’s stomach. “‘Lai, why?”

“Don’t sneak up on me like that,” The Praetor huffs as he glares at the pouting Al Behd, “and don’t interrupt other people’s sentences.”

Gippal grumbles incoherently as he rubs his injured body before moving to Baralai’s free side.

“Exactly,” The vendor isn’t phased by the interjection as he resumes his explanation. “The screen stores the information from the scanner. However, the screen doesn’t just store information, but it also takes commands. If you want a certain book, you input the title or author on the screen, and the machine will get the book and bring it to you.”

Brown eyes widen as they fall to the machina gleaming in the shadows, “That’s…That’s incredible. Quite useful, too.”

“Would you like to buy it, Praetor Baralai?” Absent-mindedly nodding his head at the vendor’s question, Baralai opens his mouth before pausing.

With a sigh, the Praetor turns to the vendor and reluctantly asks, “How much is it?”

“200,000 gil,” Baralai flinches at the vendor’s price as his shoulders sag.

“Unfortunately, I’ll have to decline,” Baralai forces his lips to turn upwards as he unwillingly steps away from the machina. “I’ll just get the broom today.”

“Are you certain? We only have one left,” The vendor pushes, and, though Baralai is tempted to buy the brilliant invention (especially since it’s the last one. When would he be able to get another?), he remains firm in his undesirable choice.

“I am certain,” Baralai nods as he gives the broom to the vendor and pays for it before thanking the man and exiting the stall, forcing himself to not look back.

“If you want,” Brown eyes fly towards his companion, his arms behind his blonde head as he walks, “I can build the machina for you.”

Warmth unfurls in Baralai’s chest at the offer, but he shakes his head with a smile, “It’s all right.”

“Besides,” Amusement covers the Praetor’s voice as he gently bumps his shoulder against Gippal’s, “I don’t want to have to stock up on brooms because they keep being used for things other than their original purpose.”

Gippal clicks his tongue before throwing Baralai a cheeky smile, “Who said things could only be used for one purpose?”

Rolling his eyes and ducking his smile into his garment, the Praetor doesn’t deem Gippal with a response as they make their way towards another stall, though the Al Behd doesn’t seem affected in the least by the silence.

Upon entering the stall, umber fingers grab a bag of flour before moving towards a cartoon of eggs, lifting the lid up as brown eyes peer at the white oval items.

Baralai lifts a few eggs up and inspects the shells for cracks before returning them to their positions, “What do you think of this cartoon, Gippal? It seems good: none of the shells have cracks.”

The Praetor turns to the Al Behd when silence is the only response he gets, but he freezes when he follows Gippal’s line of sight, trained on a group of females avidly watching them.

 _“Really, Gippal?”_ Irritation slices the umber body open and slips in as Baralai clenches his jaw. _“Didn’t you say you wanted someone who loved you for **you** and not for your experience as a lover? Didn’t you say you wanted someone who loved you as a man and not the power and status you can offer them? Why, then, are you looking at them? Why are you looking at them when I’m **right here**?”_

 _“Why are you looking at others when you all ready have **me**?”_ A white noise rings throughout Baralai’s ear as his blood quickens and thrums with the building anger before he slams the carton lid shut and purchases the items with a terse “thank you.”

“Hey,” Blazing brown eyes flick towards Gippal as the Al Behd cocks his head and considers the females before him, “they’re pretty cute, right, ‘Lai?”

The irritation rips out of Baralai’s body as a snarl bounces off his lips, “Why don’t you marry them, then?”

A wide blue eye clouded with surprise snaps toward the Praetor, who doesn’t bother to explain himself before grabbing all their purchases and stalking out of the stall, ignoring the Al Behd’s calls.

 _“Gippal can go and spend the whole night with them if he damn well wants to,”_ Baralai seethes as his fingers dig into the plastic bags and broom. _“Who cares what he does with them? I certainly don’t!”_

Except, Baralai knows he does, and his heart crumples like a piece of paper as he admits that fact.

Lowering his face and rapidly blinking back the burning water pooling in his eyes, Baralai marches home, and he doesn’t dare look back.

* * *

Bang! Bang! Bang!

 _“Who can it be at such a late hour?”_ Weary brown eyes sluggishly move from the (hundredth? thousandth?) proposal in umber hands.

Bang! Bang!

Blinking a few times, the Praetor remains seated as his mind struggles to comprehend the situation, _“It really is late, whoever could that-”_

Realization smacks the back of silver hair when Baralai suddenly recalls the companion he had left behind – one who doesn’t have a key to Baralai’s home.

 _“I should probably make a copy and give him one,”_ Baralai sets the plan aside for another day before rising and exiting the study room.

Bang!

“I’m coming!” The Praetor calls with a grumble.

 _“Is it really necessary for you to bang so loudly, Gippal?”_ Irritation flits around the Praetor’s exhausted mind as he walks down the hallway towards the front door. _“I can hear you. I wouldn’t ignore no matter how angry I am. I don’t even think I’m capable of ignoring you.”_

Huffing at his weakness, the Praetor shakes his head before grabbing the door knob and yanking the door open, “Yes, Gippal, I heard yo-”

The word abruptly fades when brown eyes fall upon the sight before him. Tan cheeks are flushed with rosy blood as the Al Behd sways on his doorstep. However, it’s not Gippal – who is clearly intoxicated, Baralai sighs as his temples begin to pound – that shocks the Praetor: its his female companion. Sagging against the Al Behd’s side, a flushed woman grips Gippal’s clothes as she incoherently mumbles something into the fabric of his garment.

“‘Lai, you-you just aba-aba-left me there!” Brown eyes snap towards Gippal, who takes a step forward before swaying. “Why…Why’d you do that to me, ‘Lai? I-I thought we’re friends. Friends don’t-”

The Al Behd’s lecture is interrupted by a hiccup as he takes another step before swaying and falling forward, bringing the woman with him. Yelping, the Praetor stretches out his arms to brace for the impact and manages to catch the intoxicated adults before falling onto the wooden floor of his home.

“S-S-Sorry,” Gippal slurs against the Baralai’s garments as he wraps his fingers in the fabric. “Didn’t mean to.”

Sighing and pinching his noise, Baralai inhales deeply to sooth the irritation rising within him like a wave – “Truly, Gippal, do you have no self-preservation? What would have happened if you had alcohol poisoning and no one was around to save you? What would have happened if you had gotten lost and was attacked by fiends or bandits?” – before gently grabbing the woman and helping her up.

“Wh…What about m-m-me?” The Al Behd whines before hiccupping. “I…I thought you l-l-loved me, ‘Lai.”

Knowing the words were playful rather than sincere, Baralai remains composed as he rolls his eyes before cautiously wrapping an arm around the woman’s waist and helping her down the hallway, “You should have been more responsible, Gippal. Take this time to reflect on your actions.”

A smile pulls the Praetor’s lips upwards when another whine echoes through the house, but he forces himself to focus on escorting the – fortunately, sleeping - woman to a guest bedroom. Maneuvering the woman further to his side, Baralai frees an arm and opens the door before helping the woman inside the room and into the bed.

Once his unexpected guest had been taken care of, he returns to the monkey still on the ground, “Have you reflected?”

The Al Behd gives a noncommittal noise as he curls into a ball and nestles deeper into his bodily warmth. A fond smile colors Baralai’s lips as brown eyes soften at the vulnerable image before the Praetor leans down and gathers the Al Behd into his arms.

Hefting the taller (and slightly heavier) man up, Baralai begins walking to the other guest bedroom – which is gradually becoming Gippal’s bedroom rather than a guest bedroom with how often he stays with Baralai – and manages to set the Al Behd on his bed before he awakens.

“Did…Did you c-c-carry…me?” A hooded blue eye peers up at Baralai as the Praetor unties the Al Behd’s shoes and sets them under the bed.

“You didn’t seem like you were even capable of walking,” Baralai argues as he averts his gaze, blood rushing to his cheeks, before moving towards the bathroom.

“I’ll-” A hiccup slips into Gippal’s sentence as he sinks into the bed, “I’ll re-re-give the f-f-favor…back.”

“Return, Gippal,” The Praetor calls as he grabs a plastic cup and fills it with cold tap water before moving back into the bedroom, setting the water on the night table. “The word you were trying to say is return.”

“Yeah, that,” The Al Behd hums as his eye flutters close.

Brown eyes study the relaxed expression before Baralai shakes his head and gently chuckles, “Get some rest, Gippal.”

Umber hands slip under the Al Behd’s body and lifts the tan body up to pull the covers down before returning Gippal to the mattress.

“That woman…” Baralai freezes as his eyes snap towards Gippal’s face, whose eye is slightly open and watching the Praetor, “She’s so…”

A chuckle slips from the Al Behd’s lips, but it isn’t the bright sparkling sound it usually is. Instead, it’s a low hallow laugh filled with a dark foreign emotion.

Concern digs into Baralai’s skin as he studies Gippal, but before he can speak, the Al Behd meets his eyes and gives him a resigned smile, “She’s perfect.”

Any thought of Gippal’s peculiar behavior slips out of Baralai’s mind as the Praetor balls his hands in the covers, _“She’s perfect, huh, Gippal? She must be something incredible if you think that way because you’ve certainly never said that about **me**.”_

Lowering his face, Baralai grinds his teeth as the anger from earlier returns, _“Why do you see everybody else but not me? I **am** that someone, Gippal. I love you for you. I’ve loved you since our Crimson Squad days. So why, then, why do you always choose everyone else but me? Why do you choose the people who could never be that someone you long for? Why don’t you choose **me**?”_

Red blurs his vision as the fury devours his body, and Baralai doesn’t think before he straddles Gippal’s waist and pins Gippal’s arms above his head.

The hooded blue eye widens as Gippal gazes up at the Praetor, but Baralai doesn’t let the shock in that blue sky stop him as he hisses in the silent room, “You told me you wanted someone to see you, Gippal – not the leader of the Machina Faction, not the sensual lover – Gippal the man. But does that _perfect_ woman really see you?”

One umber hand releasing its tan prey, Baralai unconsciously glides his hand through the Al Behd’s hair and tightens his grip on the soft blonde locks, “Does she see how you perceive the worth in everything, even if it’s trash that others would throw away? Does she see how you are innovated and talented, able to create small yet complex machinas?

“Does she see how considerate you are, from constantly reminding people to eat to designing machinas to message their hands?” Baralai inhales to soothe his burning lungs before continuing, ignoring Gippal’s parted lips and stunned expression. “Does she see your energy - your inability to sit still and let life pass you by?”

Baralai’s voice lowers and becomes hoarse as the emotions he had locked away finally spill forth, “Does she see how you become serious when you’re studying a machina? Does she see how you scratch the back of your head whenever you’re embarrassed and the way you look away when you’re getting scolded?”

“Does she see how your smiles reflect your moods: wide smiles when you’re sad, toothy smiles when you’re playful, and small smiles when you’re content?” Brown eyes gaze into a blue sky as Baralai’s voice drops to a whisper. “Does she really see you, Gippal, the way _I_ do?”

Neither men say a word as Baralai surveys the shock ripping across the tan features before dropping down to the Al Behd’s parted lips.

Perhaps it is finally divulging some of his perceptions of Gippal, or perhaps it is the anger still snaking through his veins at Gippal’s comment, but either way, Baralai doesn’t resist the temptation as he lowers his head, bringing their lips inches apart.

Before he can complete the action, brown eyes briefly flick towards Gippal’s eyes, and, like stone gaze, Baralai is paralyzed when he meets a stormy sky.

 _“Yevon, what am I doing?”_ Shame scalds the umber skin as Baralai loosens his hold on Gippal’s hair. _“Am I really going to take advantage of Gippal? Am I really going to kiss my best friend, who has never and will never see me as anything else? Am I really going to sacrifice us for my selfish desires?”_

Acid rises in the back of Baralai’s throat as he continues staring into the disgusted eye like an anything eater obsessed with a dress sphere before releasing Gippal’s hair. Straightening his rigid back, Baralai slips off Gippal’s lap and heads for the door.

“Good…Good night,” Baralai stiffly murmurs before pulling the door open and exiting the room.

This time, when he walks away, no one calls him back.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed the story, and I look forward to reading your thoughts. Constructive criticism, feedback, votes, and bookmarks are greatly appreciated!
> 
> Works to be Uploaded in the Future: I have three additional stories to add to the Gippalaipalooza Series. Although I do not know exactly when I will create these stories and upload them, I do know I will not do anything in the near future as I am resuming my education in August. However, I will provide the titles and summaries of the future works below for your reference. I look forward to hearing which story you are especially interested in reading!
> 
> 1) The Only Exception  
> Upload Date: Hopefully sometime in the summer of 2021  
> Summary: After a tumultuous breakup with Rikku, Gippal slinks back to Baralai (as he usually does) to lick his wounds. However, he finds more than just refuge in Bevelle, and Gippal soon realizes he may have found the exception to his commitment issues – and it has been by his side all along.
> 
> 2) Popping the (Other) Question [Sequel to The Only Exception]  
> Upload Date: Hopefully sometime in the summer of 2021  
> Summary: Gippal did not think much about the future; he much preferred to live in the present. However, when Issaru requests Baralai keep Pacce for a week as punishment for smuggling monkeys into their Bevelle home, Gippal realizes he may actually want more than what he has.  
> Like a family.  
> The only problem is trying to figure out how his partner of three years feels about having kids and being a parent.
> 
> 3) The Gippalai Sphere  
> Upload Date: Hopefully sometime in the summer of 2021  
> Summary: During an exploration, Yuna accidentally discovers a sphere that holds the precious memories of two lovers she would have never believed possible. Although her loyalties are conflicted, her heart urges her to return the sphere to its last owner, who struggles to return to normalcy after remembering all the things he would rather forget.


End file.
